Emergency Protocol 2 49
by Ralindir
Summary: One afternoon, the Royal Hope Hospital emergency room is invaded by a sobbing young woman cradling an injured Time Lord. And then the Doctor turns up. Oneshot. Original Character-centric. Rated T for language.


Title: Emergency Protocol 2 49

Rating: T (for occasional usages of bad language)

Disclaimer: I claim no rights to anything within the Doctor Who franchise. Mit Tyler and any other characters are my intellectual property.

Summary: One afternoon, the Royal Hope Hospital emergency room is invaded by a sobbing young woman cradling an injured Time Lord. And then the Doctor turns up. Oneshot. Original Character-centric.

Martha Jones was, to be frank, rather sick of UNIT. After they had nearly made her blow up the planet, she had decided that, while agreeing to consult for them occasionally to get them off her back, she was going to get work elsewhere. She could have retired there and then- UNIT had certainly paid her enough, and Tom was working as well- but she liked to be doing something. After travelling across time and space with a melancholy Time Lord, she wasn't quite ready to become a housewife. Jack offered her a job in Torchwood, but she didn't really feel like moving to Cardiff. And being around Jack would not have helped her marriage at all. So Martha decided where she _did_ want to go.

Within three weeks, Martha Jones had tenure at the Royal Hope Hospital.

---

Martha quite liked working in the Emergency Room. Though she was slightly ashamed to admit it, whenever a serious case rushed through those doors, a little adrenaline would flow through her veins as she strove to keep them with the living. Made her feel alive. And also, it was a good place to be if you constantly had an eye out for alien invasion. You heard a lot from the various people passing through. Nothing, though had happened in the area for quite a while. Actually, nothing had happened since she had gotten the job. A full two months. Martha was even feeling herself relax a little; for her, a rare occurrence.

"There," she said as she finished suturing the arm of the young man before her. "Now careful you don't tear those out and come back in a few days so we can see how they're going. And watch out next time you ride your bike around here. You might not be so lucky next time you get hit by a car." He grinned at her and hopped off the bed. Martha frowned. "And maybe see about buying a toothbrush," she muttered as he headed for the nurse's station. With a sigh and a roll of her shoulders to release some of the tension in her neck, she headed towards the nurse's station herself.

"HELP! SOMEBODY! HELP!"

Martha whipped around to see, outside in the ambulance bay, a young woman struggling to hold up an unconscious man. Blood seeped down his body from a gaping wound on his chest. Within seconds a gurney was as his side and he was lifted onto it. Martha strode to meet them as he came through the doors, two nurses on either side of the man and the young woman running after them, tears coursing down her cheeks. She tripped, but Martha seized her hand and pulled her up.

"What happened?" she asked as they both hurried to where he was being lifted onto one of the beds. One of the nurses pulled the white plastic curtain around the bed. The girl choked for a minute on her tears, unable to speak then gave a shriek and threw herself at the other nurse.

"NO!" she shouted, batting away the needle that he had in his hand. "Don't, you'll kill him!" Martha grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Calm down, we're not going to do anything yet," she said forcefully. "Is he allergic to something?"

"N- Yes!" the woman stammered, dragging her hands through her hair, pushing it back. "He's f-fatally allergic to medication!" Martha frowned.

"What happened?"

"A- a- I don't know, something just attacked him!"

"What's your name?" Martha said.

"Ch- Charlotte," she said with a sob. "His name is Mit. You have to save him-"

"That's what we're going to try," Martha reassured her. "What's his blood type?" Charlotte shook her head violently.

"No, you can't give him any blood, he'll die." She was getting hysterical, moving to the bed and gripping the man's hand as though she could hold him back from death. He groaned, eyes flickering open.

"Ch- Char?" he gasped. "Wh- where-?"

"I got you to Royal Hope, like you said," she babbled tearfully. "But I don't know what- how to-"

"Martha Jones," he said through gritted teeth. Martha jumped. "I need Martha Jones." The doctor went to his side and Charlotte moved to block her.

"That's me," Martha said hurriedly. "I'm Dr Jones." Charlotte moved aside and Mit raised his head painfully.

"Call the Doctor," he said. "Get- get him-" He broke off with a cough that spilled blood down his chin. Martha was silent, staring at him. His head rolled back and Charlotte turned to her.

"Call him, call the Doctor!" she begged. "I can't lose him!" But Martha was already pulling her phone out of her pocket and hitting speed dial. She moved away from the bed to have a hurried, murmured phone call. She had barely slid the phone back into her pocket when a tall, thin man with a pinstriped suit and a look of fierce worry on his face burst through the curtain.

"Doctor-"

"Lovely to see you Martha," he said. "Mit, what the hell have you done?" He was by the bedside in a flash, pushing aside the tattered remains of Mit's shirt and inspecting the wound, probing with his fingers and even, to Charlotte's disgust, tasting some of the blood.

"Wh- who are you?" Charlotte stammered in horrified confusion.

"A relation," he mumbled without looking at her. "Martha, the wound's clean, you should be able to stitch him up. Just regular stuff shouldn't kill him. But no painkillers, that will. After that, just treat him for shock. Don't worry about blood, he'll be fine if you just get him patched up now. " Martha nodded and sprung to action. As she and the nurses began cleaning and stitching up the young man on the bed, Charlotte found herself being led away from Mit by the pinstripe suited man.

"No-" she started to protest.

"It's alright, Martha'll have him stitched up in no time," the Doctor soothed. "She's good like that. Great like that. What's your name?"

"Charlotte. Who're you?" Her tears had dried up now, and she found herself shivering. The Doctor sat her down on one of the unoccupied beds in the ER and wrapped a blanket around her. He then crouched before her.

"I'm the Doctor," he said. "Now, do you know Mit?" She nodded.

"We've been- been travelling," she said. "Met him a year or two ago." The Doctor scrutinized her for a moment then smiled.

"Travelling round more than just this world, I suspect," he queried slyly. Charlotte started. "So you know- what he is?"

"Y-yes," she replied. "How do you?"

"Like I said, I'm a relation." Her eyes narrowed.

"How'm I supposed to just believe that?" she said accusingly. "You could be from UNIT. Or Torchwood. Or- or one of those anti-alien groups." The Doctor smirked and picked up her hand, pressing it to his chest. She frowned for a moment- then her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "You- you really are like him!" she whispered unbelievingly.

Just then, Martha Jones appeared at the Doctor's side.

"Is he okay?" Charlotte asked anxiously.

"He'll be fine," she said. "Have a bloody great scar, but he'll survive. But I think I deserve an explanation." She frowned at the Doctor. He looked innocently back. "I'm serious, Doctor!" He cracked a tired grin.

"Have him moved to a private room and then come by as soon as you can," he said, standing up and turning back to Charlotte. "Meanwhile-" He stopped. She had slumped sideways, unconscious from exhaustion and worry. "Ah." He turned to Martha. "Could you-?"

"I'll get them in the same room," Martha sighed resignedly. "Nice to see you again Doctor."

---

"Chaaar…Chaaaar…"

Charlotte groaned and rolled over. A snigger.

"Bugger off, Mit," she grumbled sleepily. Then- "Mit!"

She sat up suddenly, aided by a sudden jolt of adrenaline as she remembered where she was. There was a loud thump and her gaze whipped round to see-

"Mit!" she shrieked. The young man groaning and slowly getting to his feet glared at her. He was wearing hospital pyjamas.

"Watch it," he grumbled good-naturedly. "I am just recovering from a serious injury."

"You're okay!" Charlotte beamed at him. Then it slid into a frown. "Where are we?" She looked around.

"Royal Hope," Mit said, sitting on the edge of her hospital bed. "You apparently fainted." A wry grin.

"Oh shut up," she pouted. "You're indebted to me. I saved you from being stuck with needles and poisonous painkillers."

"Of course your highness. Now then." He sprang off the bed and went to the window, peering outside. "We parked by the river?"

"Why do you want to know?" Charlotte asked.

"Planning his getaway, most likely." Charlotte turned to see the Doctor standing in the doorway to the room. Mit sauntered over to Charlotte's bed and, putting a hand on her shoulder, beamed at the man. "Mit."

"Hullo Doctor," Mit said cheerfully. "You met Charlotte? She's my best friend. Actually, we were just on our way somewhere- what was it, Char, a Coldplay concert or something? Anyways, we really should be going-"

"Wait a tic," Charlotte announced. Mit fell suddenly silent, lips pursed. She swivelled to face him. "Why're you in such a mood? You're never like this."

"Just want to get on the road again," he replied tensely, his eyes firmly fixed on the Doctor.

"Yeah right," she scoffed. "Now tell me what's up." She eyed the Doctor. "Either of you." Mit's hand tightened on her shoulder momentarily, then he let go and he slumped back into a chair by the window. The Doctor moved quietly into the room and stood at the end of Charlotte's bed. Silence, for a moment, then-

"I told you before that Mit and I are related," the Doctor began. "Well the truth is that he's my son. In a way."

"In a way? Is he, like, adopted or something?" Mit was on his feet even as the words were leaving her mouth.

"Get out," he ordered, eyes fixed on the Doctor. "I'll tell her myself. Else she'll get the wrong impression." The Doctor looked about to protest but then his gaze faltered, as though some inner voice was lecturing him. Without another word he left. Mit sighed and sat on the end of Charlotte's bed.

"Well?" Charlotte prompted as he was silent and picked at the blanket.

"Well," he began hesitantly. "He's not my father, for one. Not really. I'm, uh…" He mumbled something inaudible.

"Can't hear you," Charlotte said, kicking him lightly.

"I'm his…clone's son from another dimension."

"…what."

He groaned. "Ugh, I knew you wouldn't believe me."

"…his clone?"

"Look, it's a long and irritating story but the fact is, he had a clone which had me in another universe with a girl from this universe," he suddenly blurted. "I got tossed here, dunno how, and then the bloody Doctor wants us to have bonding time."

"…was that so hard?" His gaze swivelled to her face. She looked despairing, yet rather amused.

"…yes it was in fact," he said mournfully. "In fact, I think I'm now mentally scarred. I may need a hug." He looked sorrowfully at her with his arms spread. She kicked him again.

"Piss off. So, why're you so averse to hanging around with him? Bonding's not that bad." His arms dropped and he shrugged.

"He's different from Dad. Dad may be his clone, but they're very different people. Incredibly. And I don't like him acting as if _he's_ my father. He's no right to." Silence. "…are you feeling okay?"

"Me? What about you? What the hell did that to you?"

"Uhm, a shadow, for all I could see. After you headed back to the TARDIS, it only took a couple of minutes to get past the guards- but I had to take a shortcut through another, rather weird cell. It looked like the shadows just reared up and bit me." He cocked an eyebrow. "How's that for poetry? Ow! Stop kicking me!"

"You deserve it!" Charlotte exclaimed. "You come staggering through that door, blood pouring out of you like I don't know. It was hard enough getting you through the doors, and I hadn't a clue how I was gonna get you back. Then the TARDIS just-"

"Went on her own, I know. Emergency protocol 2 49. If she can tell I'm wounded, she brings me here and now."

"And why here?"

"You met Martha Jones?"

"Uh huh."

"Lovely lady. Travelled with the Doctor for a while, worked for UNIT, but she quit and came here after the whole shazam with the Earth getting kidnapped."

"Huh. Thought that one was just a story." He stared at her incredulously. "What?"

"Says the girl who got me to take her to Loch Ness in search of the monster. Ow! Fuck you."

"Watch it with kicking him," Martha Jones admonished as she came into the room. "You don't want his stitches coming loose." The Doctor slipped into the room, looking tired.

"Hallo," Charlotte greeted them brightly. "Mit's updated me on what the hell's going on. Nice to meet you Dr Jones." Martha grinned at her then turned to Mit.

"Doctor explained everything he knew," she said. "Anyway, how're you feeling?"

"Abused. But otherwise great." He lifted his pyjama shirt to reveal a line of stitches across his chest from his collarbone to the bottom of his ribcage, a vicious wound that was already partially healed. "Fast healer," Mit said happily to Charlotte's astonished gaze. "You wanna touch it?" Astonishment turned to disgust.

"Ew no," she complained. "I don't want any more of your icky alien blood on me. You ruined that shirt."

"Well if you're up and about then maybe you two should make your getaway," Martha commented with a smile. "Before someone notices. You're lucky it's gotten busy today. Even managed to get your clothes back-" She held up a plastic bag. "Ruined or not, you probably don't want anyone getting their hands on time lord blood." The Doctor grinned.

"Told you she was great like that," he called to Charlotte. Charlotte and Mit were amused to see a faint blush on the young woman's face.

"_Like I said," _she coughed. "You'd best get going."

---

Charlotte and Mit ran hard and fast, hospital pyjamas billowing in the wind, arms linked at the elbows and mad laughter spilling from their mouths and clearing the way of the surprised passer-by. They reached an alleyway and tore around it, narrowly missing a dumpster, before coming to a momentary halt before a Police Public Call box. Mit hurriedly pulled a key from his pocket and within seconds they were through the door. Charlotte didn't stop walking, just marched right through the control room.

"Where're you off to?" Mit called as he made for the screen at the wood and brass-encased controls.

"Shower and change of clothes," came the reply. "I smell of antiseptic and these pyjamas are not flattering. No flying off anywhere, I don't want to break my neck in the shower and you _are _going to be civil to the Doctor when he comes by, real dad or not." Mit grumbled and, abandoning the control panel, headed for a different door.

---

A pinstripe-suited man sauntered casually down the alleyway, looking highly amused. He came to a stop outside the large blue box.

_Knock, knock, knock._

The door swung open and Charlotte, dressed in clean jeans and a baggy t-shirt advertising the Rainforest World Music Festival 2084. She grinned at him and ran a hand through her drying hair.

"Hallo Doctor," she said. "Come in." She moved aside and he slipped inside. The Doctor stood by the doorway a minute, taking in his surroundings. The control room looked like it was constructed entirely from teak and brass. In the centre of the room was the control panel, from beneath which came a soft, golden light, and the pillar in the centre was filled with smoke that softly billowed and swirled. Opposite the entrance was a chaise lounge and a luxurious armchair and on each side of this lounge set was a large teak door.

"Nice," he commented. Charlotte grinned.

"It was all white and boring when he fist picked me up," she said, leaning against the wooden railing by the door. "Helped him redecorate. Now…" She smirked. "Well now it suits how you dress better, doesn't it?" The Doctor turned to see Mit by the chaise lounge. He stood there, stiffly tall, dressed in a peculiar, double-breasted cream waistcoat with wide, black lapels. White sleeves billowed Byronically around his arms and a small brooch held a ribbon round his neck in place of a jabot. His hair was brushed and gelled up like a flame, the sides and back shorn so that he had a thick mohawk four or five inches wide.

"Very aristocratic," the Doctor observed. "I see peroxide blonde runs in the family." Mit jerked as though resisting touching his hair.

"Do- d'you want a drink?" he asked awkwardly. The Doctor glanced sideways at Charlotte, who was looking proudly at Mit. He looked back at his sort-of-son.

"Tea would be lovely."

---

The kitchen was far more modern, with a white and blue chequered linoleum floor, refrigerator straight from the sales floor of a Fisher & Paykel on one of the many New Earths, a heavy 51st century wooden table and chairs set and a Venusian cappuccino maker. Mit set down the willow-patterned teapot and teacups, pouring for the Doctor and himself before tossing a can of Coke to Charlotte. She grinned at the Doctor.

"Can't stand tea," she explained as she yanked the tab off the can. "'cept Chai, but he can't make it."

"Well first of all," the Doctor mused, taking a sip of tea. "Whereabouts did he pick you up? You sound Australian- you know I knew an Australian once. Lovely girl, Tegan her name was. Flight attendant." He grinned nostalgically.

"Well, yeah, I am an Aussie," Charlotte replied. "He picked me up round Newcastle- the Australian one- in 2008."

---

"Nice hair." The young man turned his head sideways and stared dejectedly at Char. "Whoa. Cheer up emo kid." She hesitated, then sat down next to him in the bus shelter. "What's the matter?"

"Hundreds of miles from home," he said mournfully. "And no idea where to go, even if I knew how to go there."

"…you British?"

"…kinda."

"…cool. Why are you dressed like a greaser?"

"Forgot which year it was. What's your name?"

"Charlotte. How'd you manage to forget the year?"

"Long, unbelievable story."

Silence reigned.

"What bus you getting?"

"None. I've only got American money."

"What, forget what country you're in too?"

"…"

"…you really are mad, aren't you?"

"Possibly."

"What's your name? And don't say Elvis, or you're just an unimaginative madman."

"Mit Tyler."

A bus pulled up and Charlotte got to her feet.

"Well, Mit Tyler, here's enough for an hour ticket. Get yourself to hospital or home or wherever." Mit blinked at the coins held out for him. "Hurry up or I'm going to miss my bus." He held out his hand and she tipped the coins into it.

"Th-thanks."

"No problem. Get yourself some help." She spun and just made it onto the bus. As it pulled away, she watched the strange young man with the black leather jacket and the blonde hair stiff with gel stand and raise a hand in a half wave. She waved back and the bus rounded the corner.

---

"What the-" Charlotte pushed Mit down one of the aisles. He gaped at her.

In unison- "Are you following me?"

Then- "No!" "No!"

A moment of silence.

"Ehehe," Charlotte laughed nervously. "Coincidence." Mit nodded, face reddening.

"Yup," he agreed. "Creepy, huh?"

"Yeah." They dithered a moment, both embarrassed. "Hey, did you ever find 'home', ET?" Charlotte asked suddenly. "Or are you after another bus fare?"

"Yes, I found home," he said with a beam. "So no bus fare needed. Thanks again for that. Why're you here? If you don't mind me asking."

"Closest library to home," Charlotte said, waving the single book she had in her hand. "Just got here. They had this reserved."

"Cool."

"…why are you still dressed as a greaser?"

"Couldn't see the point in getting changed."

"It doesn't suit you. The blonde greaser thing looks kinda weird." He self-consciously touched his hair.

"I like it," he muttered sullenly. Charlotte bit back a giggle.

"So," she mused, moving back out of the aisle and returning to the one she had been previously perusing. "What're you doing here?"

"Uh…I like libraries!" Mit said quickly as he followed her. "And I don't have anything else to do. Well- I was going to have some lunch soon. You hungry? I owe you a bus-fare's worth of chips at least." Charlotte eyed him contemplatively for a moment.

"Alright then," she finally said, turning back to the books and selecting one. "I know a good pie shop."

"Sounds good."

---

"You lost your TARDIS?" the Doctor guffawed. Mit scowled.

"The chameleon circuit was working," he mumbled. "It looked like a tree."

"It was just outside the library, across the road in the park," Charlotte added.

"So how'd you make the leap from lending him bus money to travelling in time and space?" the Doctor queried, pouring a second cup of tea for himself. Mit had long finished his and placed the teacup in the sink. "Oh and how come it looks like my TARDIS now?"

"Well I got sick of losing it," Mit explained. "Soon after Char and I started travelling, I landed it in the 60s and- well."

"He went at the chameleon circuit with a hammer!" Char exclaimed. "I thought he was going to have us stuck in the 60s forever!"

"Well I knew that that was what he'd done once!" Mit protested. "I knew what I was doing!" Charlotte scoffed. "Anyway, now I can actually recognise it."

"And it gets us in trouble plenty," Charlotte commented. "We once got caught by Torchwood back in the- 20s was it? We'd just stopped for milk and they thought we were you, Doctor. Or at least that he was. Not very fun at all."

"_Anyway_. Back to the main story?"

"Oh, yeah. So he hung around for a few months, and we'd hang out at the library or my place or wherever. Never saw his place but I didn't think much of that. Then one day, 'bout three, four months after we met, I'd popped down to the library to pick up another book I'd reserved…"

---

Charlotte stifled a yawn as she strolled through the library, gaze trailing over the rows of books. She shifted her bag to her other shoulder as she stopped and slid into one of the aisles to inspect one of the books that had caught her eye. After reading the back and deliberating for a minute, she replaced it on the shelf. She paused, then turned.

"…huh. That wasn't there last week." At the end of the row was another bookcase, an apparent extension. She strolled down to it and inspected the books that lined it. Spotting an Asimov anthology, she placed two fingers atop the spine and tried to tug it out. It slid halfway out then stuck. A section of the new bookcase swung inwards. Charlotte stared, hand still out in front of her. Where the bookcase had been was now a doorway to a clinically white room. Warily, Charlotte stepped through, clutching her bag to her chest. Her feet clanked noisily on the metal floor, and she shivered out of anticipation. The room was large and circular, with a large control panel of sorts in its centre. A tall, frosted glass column rose from the middle. It glowed a soft, warm gold. Charlotte moved slowly across the room, keeping her distance from the control panel. Opposite the door she had entered the room through was another door, made of wood and left ajar. Charlotte, with a glance over her shoulder to ensure that the door to the library was still open, slipped through.

"What the - Mit?!'' The young man spun and stared at her in astonishment.

"Ch- Charlotte?"

"What are you doing here? What is this place?"

"I- I can explain," he babbled, walking towards her she took a step back.

"Stay where you are," she insisted fearfully. "This room is impossible, this was against the back wall, this place shouldn't exist. Who who are you?" She was getting hysterical, backing further through the door.

"Look, just stop, sit down and let me explain," Mit said desperately. "It's still me, Mit, your friend. I'm not going to hurt you." She stopped, still wide-eyed. "Look- just- ugh." He ran a hand through his hair, staring at her. "Come over here- sit down." She didn't move. "_Please." _Slowly she walked forwards and slid cautiously into the plain wooden chair closest to the door. In quick glances that always returned to Mit as he stood opposite her at the large table, she took stock of her surroundings. It was a small, plain white room with the heavy wooden table near the door that led back the way she'd come. There was a tatty old armchair and a single bookcase off to one side, which was where Mit had been standing when she had entered the room. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a small fridge, a cupboard and a kitchen bench with a hotplate on it.

"What's going on?" she said, voice remarkably calm. She clutched the book she had brought with her as though it was a lifeline to sanity and safety. "Where- what is this place?"

"This is the TARDIS," Mit replied slowly, moving backwards to sit in the armchair, his hands kept in plain view so as not to panic her. "It's my home."

"TARDIS?"

"Time And Relative Dimensions In Space," he recited. "It works a bit like a pocket universe, I suppose. You know we were talking about them last week. That's how it can be here when it's against the back wall."

"So you live in the library."

"Well, sometimes. I've only been here as long as I've known you. That second time we met- I'd just moved it in here."

"Moved it- you live in a pocket universe you can move around?"

"No- it's not a pocket universe, it just sorta works like that. It's actually a- a spaceship."

"…I'd tell you to fuck off but my brain's busy melting."

"That tends to happen."

"How the hell did you get ahold of this? I mean- you're nothing special, really. I'm just joking when I call you ET."

"Um."

"…you're not human, are you."

"…half. Sorta. Mum was- It's complicated."

"…but you look human. You're not a shape shifter, are you?"

"Humanoid form's the most practical there is. Quite a few life-forms use it, or some variation."

"So there's more like you?"

"Well not like me. I'm unique. I'm special, but not in the retarded way."

"Vain alien bastard."

"Heh."

They were silent for a minute or two. Mit picked at the cloth of the armchair while Charlotte eyed him cautiously.

"So- have you got tentacles or something, ET?"

"That's a bit of a personal question."

"Sorry."

"But no. No tentacles. Two hearts though."

"You're shitting me."

"Nope. Here- listen." He stood up and walked around the table, reaching for her hand. Charlotte shrunk back into her chair a little. "I won't hurt you," he promised. She paused, then slowly reached out. He took her hand and pressed it against his chest. Through his thin white shirt, she could feel a peculiar, echoing heartbeat. She withdrew her hand, a little fast, and clutched it to her chest as she stared at his.

"I can barely believe it," she murmured, rubbing her hand as though she'd received an electric shock. He smiled wearily.

"You're doing better than some," he said. "Got hit by a car once, should'a see the looks on the paramedics' faces when I came round."

"You got hit by a car?" Charlotte exclaimed. "When did this happen?"

"2010, a month or two before I met you."

"Okay, that's just weird. I think you may be mad after all."

"What?"

"You're talking about- about the future like it's the past."

"But- oh, I forgot. It's, uh- not really just a spaceship. Time machine, too."

"…right, I'm outta here." She stood up suddenly. Mit looked stricken.

"No- don't go-" He grabbed her shoulder. She stared at him. "I- I don't-" He glanced away and his hand dropped from her shoulder. "I don't have any other friends," he mumbled.

"Dumbass. I'm not deserting you." He looked back at her face. "This Tardis thing's weirding me out, and if you're going to keep revealing stuff like this, I'd prefer you do it somewhere where I can faint without fear of being abducted." He gave a bark of laughter and moved aside, sweeping an arm out to gesture at the door.

"After you, earthling."

---

"I explained everything," Mit said, smiling at Charlotte. "Just about. The whole Time Lord shazam. She took it better than anyone else I'd met."

"A good background from Asimov, Verne and Asher helped," Charlotte smirked.

"I took her on a jaunt to a few places," Mit continued, turning his gaze to the Doctor. "Venusian carbon mines, Betelguese Boys concert, New, New, New, New, New, New, New London, Rainforest Music Festivals for 2084, '85 and '88."

"We saw Elvis too," Charlotte added. "Back when he was really cute."

"Big on the concerts," the Doctor commented.

"Yeah. After that I took her home, cos I remembered what Mum had told me about what happened when you first picked her up," Mit said.

"And then he disappeared for most of the time," Charlotte took over. "Turned up for my birthday and Christmas, a few times in the holidays to take me to Rome or France. Happened for two years, til I was done with school. Then I packed my bags, told Mum I was hitting Asia and Europe, then maybe America for a road trip, and off we went. We've been travelling for about a year TARDIS-time."

"Sounds like you two have been having a good time of it."

"It's been alright, most of it," Mit said. "There've been a few places that we probably shouldn't've stopped. Got stuck in France for a good deal of the revolution."

"Bloody terrifying when he's dressed up like a member of the aristocracy," Charlotte interjected. "Nearly got himself guillotined. He does that quite a bit- death sentences and that. Marvellous talent for insulting the wrong people." Mit grumbled incoherently. The Doctor laughed. They were all quiet, Charlotte and the Doctor finishing their drinks.

"Well I suppose I should go," the Doctor said, standing up. Mit and Charlotte rose with him. "Charlotte- could I have a quick word with you?"

"Sure," she replied, before Mit could say anything. She and the Doctor headed for the door of the kitchen.

"Thank you," the Doctor said quietly as they walked down the corridor, Mit having remained, a little sullenly, back in the kitchen. "When he turned up, he barely gave me time to talk to him before he made a run for it. He was very angry. I haven't see him since, but it's clear you've helped him."

"Well just having time to think must have helped," Charlotte said. "From the sounds of things, it was quite a shock. But I do try to keep an eye on him. He's not that great with other people. Like I said, great talent for insulting the wrong people."

"Thank you for that. It sounds a bit like myself when I was younger." The Doctor laughed briefly. They came to the control room.

"I'll try and trick him into visiting you now and again," Charlotte said. "Is there some way I can get in contact with you?"

"If you talk to Martha, she can always get through to me," the Doctor said. "I'll see about setting up a more direct line if you need it. And I would appreciate it. He's all I've got left." Charlotte nodded, and Mit emerged from the corridor they'd come through.

"Char, I've done something to the dishwasher," he said mournfully. She rolled her eyes.

"Well it was nice meeting you, Doctor," she said. "Now excuse me- I have a dishwasher bomb to defuse." She headed back towards the kitchen.

"Sonic screwdriver's on the table," Mit called after her before she disappeared. Then he turned back to the Doctor, back stiffly straight once more.

"She's a nice girl," the Doctor said pleasantly. "You seem rather attached to her." Mit's eyes narrowed.

"She's a good friend. I'm not going to let anything happen to her."

"Good. Friends like that are hard to come by and keep." The Doctor turned to the TARDIS door, hand on the handle. "See you later." Mit didn't reply. The Doctor left. Mit remained by the door for a moment, rubbing tiny circles on the glass with his thumb.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Mit sighed, deflated. He looked wearily over his shoulder. "Sorry about lying about the dishwasher."

"I'll forgive you." Charlotte leaned against the doorframe. "This time. You want to go get some rest?"

"Good idea. I'm a fast healer, but that run didn't do me much good."

"Alright then. I'll finish the washing up. And see about incinerating those clothes. Try not to get lost."

"Whose TARDIS is this again?"

"Mine of course, puny alien."

"Hahaha…of course."

FIN.


End file.
